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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24377134">Stubborn sparks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise'>BlushLouise</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Denial of Feelings, Let Ratchet have good things, M/M, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Ratchet works too much, So much denial</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:08:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,316</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24377134</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift and Rodimus have each other. They don't need Ratchet as well. Ratchet has almost managed to convince himself of that fact.<br/>Or he would, if they'd stop pestering him about it all the time.</p>
<p>For Ratchet Week 2020.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Drift | Deadlock/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>179</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Duty/Desire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Rodimus first, seeking him out. Swaggering into the medbay as if he was Primus’ gift to anyone with optics, a wide grin on his face and a cheeky perk to his spoiler.</p>
<p>“Come on, Ratch. It’s one night off.” A gold finger dragged down Ratchet’s arm. “What are you doing anyway, filing? Files can wait.”</p>
<p>“You would know,” Ratchet groused, shaking off the distracting touch. “You’ve never met a report you didn’t postpone.”</p>
<p>“And yet the ship keeps flying,” Rodimus said cheerfully. “Space keeps spinning around us. Everyone is fueled and happy – except for you, obviously, because you refuse to delegate.”</p>
<p>“Can’t delegate this.” Ratchet signed off on Rung’s latest recommendations regarding Whirl. “It’s on me, or it doesn’t get done.”</p>
<p>“Then get it done tomorrow.” Rodimus was suddenly very close and purring. “There’s a drink at Swerve’s with your name on it. I know, because I asked him to come up with it.”</p>
<p>Ratchet took a deep invent to steady himself before pushing Rodimus away. “No. Not tonight.”</p>
<p>“Aw.” Rodimus’ pout could have been weaponized. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure.”</p>
<p>“Okay then.” That spoiler wiggled again as he walked out.</p>
<p>Ratchet focused on his stack of datapads again and tried to ignore the empty, hollow feeling in his spark.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Drift came later, as usual. He was quiet, offhandedly stealthy, not actually trying to be sneaky but managing all the same. Ratchet could still see him coming, of course. Mainly because he’d known Drift would show up at some point.</p>
<p>“You’re working too hard.” Drift’s hands were warm and firm on Ratchet’s shoulder cabling.</p>
<p>“I work as hard as I have to.” It wasn’t like they had enough medics to pick up any slack Ratchet left. And he would not make First Aid and Ambulon work these kinds of hours. Not yet. “You’re not injured.”</p>
<p>“I’m not.” Those hands moved up to his neck, and Ratchet could feel himself melting under the touch. He straightened his backstrut, forcing himself to not react. “Rodimus told me where you were.”</p>
<p>“Of course he did.” Rodimus always told Drift whatever he asked him. “And so you took it upon yourself to come drag me out of here?”</p>
<p>Drift’s fingers tightened on Ratchet’s plating, and there was faint pressure on the top of his helm. “We worry about you, Ratchet. Is that so wrong?”</p>
<p>“It’s misplaced.” No matter how much Ratchet ached for it. “Now go on, get out of here. I’m sure you have better things to do than pester an ornery old medic.” He made himself force the rest of the words out. “Like a certain red speedster, for example.”</p>
<p>Drift didn’t reply. He didn’t let go, either. Ratchet fought the temptation to lean back into the warmth Drift offered. It was so very tempting.</p>
<p>But he couldn’t. Not today.</p>
<p>Not ever.</p>
<p>“Alright,” Drift said finally, leaning away. “Alright, Ratchet. I’ll leave you to it.” He put a cube of energon on Ratchet’s desk, next to the datapads. “Don’t overwork yourself.”</p>
<p>Ratchet snorted. “Overworking myself is pretty much a constant, kid. Convince Rodimus to stop taking us into dangerous situations, and maybe I’ll be able to change that.”</p>
<p>He didn’t look up as Drift walked away. But his focus was on the retreating footsteps, until he couldn’t hear them anymore.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sarcastic/sincere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Drift was watching them, a wry look on his face. Ratchet didn’t blame him. He was sure they made up quite the spectacle.</p>
<p>“Now stay down, you brat,” he growled, giving Rodimus a push. He had to keep his hand on the kid’s shoulder to keep him from bouncing right back up. “Or do I have to magnetize your aft to the berth?”</p>
<p>Rodimus grinned, the effect only somewhat ruined by the deep crack in his faceplate. “Aw, Ratch, is that a promise?”</p>
<p>“It will be if you don’t hold still,” Ratchet replied. “I’ll lock you down if I have to.”</p>
<p>“That’s not exactly incentive to stay still, Ratchet.” Rodimus wiggled his aft against the medberth surface.</p>
<p>“By all means, keep wiggling if you want me to leave a scar.” That cut might scar no matter what he did, actually. Rodimus had really managed to hurt himself this time.</p>
<p>“Scars can be sexy.” Rodimus winked. “D’you think I’d look sexy with a scar, Ratchet?”</p>
<p>Ratchet activated the berth magnets, smirking as Rodimus was suddenly forced to lie straight and flat.</p>
<p>Not that it stopped Rodimus for long. “Ooh! What are you going to do with my aft now that you have it where you want it?”</p>
<p>“Rodimus,” Drift sighed. “Behave.”</p>
<p>Rodimus pouted again. “I am. It’s not my fault he doesn’t believe me.”</p>
<p>Brat.</p>
<p>Two could play that game, though. “Oh, really?” Ratchet adjusted the berth setting slightly, tilting Rodimus’ head to where he wanted it. “Imagining creative uses of the berth magnets, are you?”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding?” Rodimus shivered. “Me, locked down like this, with you over me? Ratchet, the opportunities are <em>endless</em>.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.” Ratchet transformed one hand to bring out a micro-welder. “Not with your legs in that position.”</p>
<p>“You can adjust the berth settings, right?” Rodimus sounded way too excited for someone with a welder to his face.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Ratchet allowed, without letting himself get distracted from the repair. No matter how tempting Rodimus’ frame was stretched out like that. “The middle even splits apart lengthwise. For when I need to get between someone’s legs, so to speak.”</p>
<p>Rodimus downright <em>moaned</em>.</p>
<p>Behind him, Drift sighed loudly. “Ratchet. I have to live with him after this.”</p>
<p>Ratchet chuckled. Drift was setting himself up for this one. “Can’t blame me for that. You chose that on your own. And if you open your mouth right now, Rodimus, you won’t like the consequences.”</p>
<p>Beneath his fingers, the crack was slowly but surely closing up. And somehow, Rodimus managed to convey a fairly impressive pout without moving his face at all.</p>
<p>“I’ll be responsible for my choices if you’ll be responsible for yours,” Drift shot back. “Stop teasing him.”</p>
<p>Ratchet rolled his optics. “Maybe he shouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it.” He finished the weld and stepped back. “There. Don’t move for a while. I’ll smooth it down once it’s settled.”</p>
<p>He looked up to find Drift staring at him. “You… do know he’s serious, right?” he said slowly.</p>
<p>“Of course he’s not serious.” Ratchet refused to believe anything else. Rodimus was a flirt, but he had Drift, there was no reason for him to be seriously interested in any other mech. Especially not a grumpy old cog like Ratchet.</p>
<p>On the berth, Rodimus made the most indignant, disbelieving noise Ratchet had ever heard. Drift just stared at Ratchet in clear surprise.</p>
<p>Ratchet turned away. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t touch the weld, or I will give you something to be serious about.”</p>
<p>He headed to his office for a break. Rodimus couldn’t do any damage magnetized down anyway.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Confidence/regret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ratchet remembered. Much better and much more than he’d have liked to, to be honest.</p>
<p>He remembered feeling like Rodimus probably did right now. Like he could dance on the tables, and mecha would dance with him. Back then he always felt like he could wink and grin at any mecha he wanted, and most often he’d find someone to take home for the night.</p>
<p>He didn’t feel like that any longer. It had been a long time since he did.</p>
<p>Logically, he knew he wasn’t that much older than Rodimus and Drift. Not really. But somehow, their captain had come through the war with his unbreakable spirit still intact. Drift, too, had managed to come out strong, if more than a little changed.</p>
<p>Ratchet feared he’d come out of it broken. He was just the only one to see it.</p>
<p>He watched as Rodimus spun on the table, showing off the most extravagant air guitar solo in the known universe. It was a pretty picture, and Rodimus knew it, angling his spoiler and back to catch the light and look fantastic.</p>
<p>He somehow always managed that.</p>
<p>Drift was more subdued, though no less graceful. He stayed on the floor, behind Rodimus, smile as wide as it could get without revealing any fangs as he beamed up at his partner.</p>
<p>They were both too attractive for words.</p>
<p>Ratchet downed his cube, wincing at the sting of high-grade. It wasn’t the best Swerve had available, far from it, but it did the job.</p>
<p>Maybe tonight he could forget how empty his habsuite was. Maybe tonight he’d recharge easily and wake up rested, without feeling as alone as he usually did.</p>
<p>Swerve shouted something about weight and scuff marks as Rodimus hoisted Drift onto the table. Drift was laughing freely, leaning into Rodimus’ arms and threatening to bring both of them to the floor. Somehow Rodimus managed to turn the almost-fall into a spin, steady despite the empty cube of high-grade at his feet.</p>
<p>Ratchet remembered how that felt, too. To feel the high-grade tingle in his lines and give him courage instead of just making him feel more disgusted with himself. To be a happy drunk.</p>
<p>Up on the table, Rodimus and Drift spun and laughed, arms around each other. The light glinted off their plating. Ratchet couldn’t look away.</p>
<p>But he refused to sit there and pine over something that wasn’t his to have. He might be broken, he might be pathetic, but he wasn’t that far gone.</p>
<p>Slowly, ignoring the creak in his knees that always had First Aid pestering him about proper self-care, Ratchet stood. He put his empty cube back on the table, far enough in that it wouldn’t be knocked over by anyone passing too close. No point making a mess for someone else to clean up.</p>
<p>It was tempting to stay. Drink himself into a stupor, make sure he couldn’t remember anything of tonight.</p>
<p>But he wasn’t sure he wanted to forget how good Drift and Rodimus looked up there. Even though he would only torment himself with it.</p>
<p>He glanced up again. He couldn’t help himself.</p>
<p>Seeing Drift looking back at him with an undefinable look in his optics was almost enough to stop him in his tracks. It was certainly enough to make him stare for a moment longer, committing every angle and line to memory. From the way Rodimus was laughing, head thrown back against Drift’s shoulder, to how Drift’s hand was supporting Rodimus’ hip and keeping him upright. The way their optics glowed in the dim light. How they were leaning against each other.</p>
<p>Ratchet fled before he could say or do anything he would regret.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Dance off/working overtime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The medbay had seen its share of action since Ratchet boarded the Lost Light. But it had never seen quite this kind of action. For that matter, he doubted any medbay ever had.</p>
<p>“Crank up the volume, Blaster,” Rodimus yelled. “I can still hear that horrendous grinding!”</p>
<p>“If you didn’t want to hear Ratchet cutting my plating apart, you should take your dancing elsewhere,” Cyclonus grumbled, but not even Tailgate was listening to him.</p>
<p>“Can’t do that!” Rodimus hollered. “You’re still the judge!”</p>
<p>Medbay was seldom this crazy.</p>
<p>Ratchet kind of enjoyed it.</p>
<p>Thankfully, Cyclonus’ injury was messy but not difficult. Whatever Brainstorm had managed to spill on his plating, the bubbly solid rock-like mass could be cut away. With a bit of effort. And Ratchet was way too experienced a medic to let a little mayhem bother him. Much.</p>
<p>He did keep his back to where Rodimus and Blaster had cleared the impromptu ‘dance off arena’, though. Just in case.</p>
<p>Blaster racketed up the volume. Ignoring them, Ratchet reached for the diluted acid that would hopefully clear the rest of the mass away. Only, instead of a vial, his hand closed on someone else’s fingers.</p>
<p>Rodimus smiled down at him and tugged at his hand. “Come on. This one needs a partner. And I know you’ve got the moves.”</p>
<p>Ratchet tried to protest. He did. But his vocalizer didn’t online. He looked around for Drift, only to find him leaning against the wall and smiling every bit as widely as Rodimus was. No help to be found there, apparently.</p>
<p>Rodimus spun him around before pulling him close. “Hi, Ratchet. Thanks for dancing with me.” He was unusually bashful, smile sweet rather than blinding, optics bright.</p>
<p>Ratchet still didn’t know what to say. But he realized he did know this dance, at least well enough to follow Rodimus’ lead.</p>
<p>Warm hands on his waist. Rodimus’ face closer than it had ever been, and still with that almost awed look in his optics. Ratchet didn’t know what to make of it.</p>
<p>Rodimus chuckled, resting his forehead against Ratchet’s for a moment. “Still think we’re not genuinely interested in you?”</p>
<p>Ratchet froze.</p>
<p>Rodimus stared at him, all worried. “Ratchet?”</p>
<p>“I’ve got to go,” Ratchet blurted, pulling away suddenly. “Acid. Cyclonus. Um.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Now Rodimus looked disappointed, and Ratchet didn’t know if he could bear that. “Yeah, okay. I did kind of drag you away from your work.”</p>
<p>Ratchet nodded. He didn’t trust his vocalizer. Or his willpower, unless he got out of there.</p>
<p>Forgoing the vial he’d already prepared, he fled to the back room. The music was less penetrative there, and even better, there were no optics following him. No Rodimus, and no Drift.</p>
<p>Not that it helped. He was trembling all over, and ended up splashing acid over one hand while preparing the solution. It stung like the Pit until he managed to douse it with a neutralizing agent.</p>
<p>Apparently he couldn’t trust his hands either.</p>
<p>In desperation, he pinged First Aid. Aid was more than capable enough to do this by himself. At the affirmative response, Ratchet sent him the solution formula and what to do, citing an injury as the reason he had to leave his post. It wasn’t all a lie. His hand still hurt, and probably would for a while.</p>
<p>He was thankful now that he’d taken the habsuite connected to medbay. It was probably meant for a trainee medic or assistant, small as it was, but it worked for him. Especially since he didn’t have to go out through the medbay proper to get there. He could just… slip out.</p>
<p>He’d never been more relieved to close the door behind him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. I needed that/Meeting halfway</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ratchet massaged the medical gel into his hand. It would get down in the substructure of his hand, hopefully, and soothe the acid burns.</p>
<p>Lesson learned. He wasn’t too old to make mistakes. And working with acid while that upset had definitely been a mistake.</p>
<p>He wasn’t even sure what had freaked him out so badly. Well, sure, he knew what had freaked him out so badly. But not exactly <em>why</em> Rodimus saying what he did had freaked him out so badly.</p>
<p>It wasn’t like they were pranking him. Neither of them would be that cruel. And they’d pushed way past the point where he could say they were joking about it.</p>
<p>Dancing like that, forehead to forehead, those words, those looks… No, they weren’t joking about it.</p>
<p>So why in the Pit was he still freaking out?</p>
<p>And First Aid had relieved him of duty, too. He’d taken one look at Ratchet’s hand and evicted him from medbay, with the full support of both Ambulon and Ultra Magnus. Ratchet had to heal up first before he was allowed back on duty.</p>
<p>Slag.</p>
<p>He wound a mesh bandage carefully around his damaged hand to keep the gel in place. At least First Aid had permitted him to care for himself. Which was good, because Ratchet had no intention of seeking anyone else out, or even leaving his hab. He could sneak into the medbay and use their energon dispenser, so he didn’t really have to go anywhere else.</p>
<p>Didn’t have to risk running into a pair of pretty speedsters.</p>
<p>He tied off the bandage, and there was a ping at the door. And it wasn’t First Aid, as might have been expected.</p>
<p>It was Rodimus and Drift.</p>
<p>Part of Ratchet wanted to pretend he wasn’t there. But he couldn’t hide forever.</p>
<p>He invented heavily, and palmed the door open.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Rodimus said softly. “Can we talk?”</p>
<p>“I suppose.” Ratchet stood aside to let them in. After all, how much worse could things possibly get?</p>
<p>“Thanks.” Drift closed the door, but he didn’t lock it. Ratchet appreciated that.</p>
<p>For a moment, they stood in awkward silence. Then Drift and Rodimus exchanged a look, and Drift turned to Ratchet. “We have a question for you.”</p>
<p>“A proposition, rather,” Rodimus injected. “For you to consider.”</p>
<p>Drift nodded, and out of nowhere he held out a box. With a pretty bow on it.</p>
<p>Oh, slag.</p>
<p>“We’ve tried to be clear about our intentions,” Drift said. “But it seems we’ve only managed to confuse you. So we’re going to put it into the clearest words we can so you can understand.”</p>
<p>Rodimus pulled out another box. It seemed they’d rehearsed this. Ratchet was too dumbfounded to think of why. “We want you, Ratch,” he said plainly. “We want you in our lives, in our relationship. All the time. And I’ve tried to say so.” He grinned. “Granted, probably a bit too loudly for you to believe me. But we really do.”</p>
<p>“I can’t remember any of the old phrases,” Drift said, one of his hands finding Rodimus’. “Too far gone for those back then. But Ratchet, we’d like to court you. Properly. If you’d let us.”</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>Oh, wow.</p>
<p>“Court me?” Ratchet repeated, floored. “But – why?”</p>
<p>Rodimus chuckled. Slowly, as if giving Ratchet a way out, he lifted a hand to cradle Ratchet’s cheek. “Because this.”</p>
<p>Ratchet had dreamed about Rodimus’ lips on his. But somehow, reality was even better.</p>
<p>It was chaste, and sweet, and Rodimus pulled away far, far too soon. Ratchet just managed to choke off the whine beginning in his vocalizer.</p>
<p>“Primus,” Rodimus said fervently, leaning his forehead against Ratchet’s again. “You’re perfect, Ratch.”</p>
<p>Ratchet didn’t get a chance to comment before his lips were caught again, by Drift this time. Just as gentle, just as sweet, and there was a warmth blooming in Ratchet’s spark he couldn’t remember ever feeling there before.</p>
<p>“We want you,” Drift whispered. “It’s true, dearspark. We want you with us.”</p>
<p>Ratchet’s knees were going weak. And his frame seemed to have its own ideas, taking him forward into their arms instead of away.</p>
<p>To be fair, though, being in their arms was a lot nicer than anything else he’d encountered lately.</p>
<p>Suddenly, fighting it seemed ridiculous.</p>
<p>“You sure about this?” he asked, because old habits died really hard.</p>
<p>“We’re sure.” Drift nuzzled his cheek. “Let us prove it to you, yeah? Let us court you.”</p>
<p>Ratchet chuckled and leaned into the touch. “Well, frag.”</p>
<p>“If you want,” Rodimus purred. “Though maybe that should wait until you trust this a bit more.”</p>
<p>Ratchet snorted. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea.”</p>
<p>Slag, what had he gotten himself into?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. This war will never end/Without love, there is no meaning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Why?” Ratchet asked. It was the one question that bothered him above all else, after all.</p>
<p>“Because we were tired of waiting,” Rodimus replied and snuggled closer, his leg thrown over one of Ratchet’s and his hand drawing slow circles on his windshield.</p>
<p>“Yeah, no, I figured that,” Ratchet said dryly. “You’ve never been known for your patience. But… why me?”</p>
<p>Drift sat up, just enough that he could look down at Ratchet’s face. “You don’t see yourself very clearly, you know. We love you because you’re you. Because you’re fierce, and caring, and strong. You care so much, Ratchet, and you give so much. How could we not, seeing all that?”</p>
<p>“That, and you’re slagging gorgeous,” Rodimus added with a chuckle. “Don’t forget that part.”</p>
<p>Ratchet’s hands stilled on their backs. “…Love?”</p>
<p>He hated how small his voice was all of a sudden. It seemed he would never stop being surprised by these two. Ever since he’d let them in, it was like he had no defenses left. No way to laugh anything off, no bluster to hide behind.</p>
<p>He hadn’t decided yet if he enjoyed it or if it terrified him. He suspected it was a bit of both.</p>
<p>“That’s what you took away from what I said?” Drift smiled down at him, so much care and affection in his expression that Ratchet wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. “Yeah, Ratchet. We love you.”</p>
<p>“To be fair, it was the important part.” Rodimus turned his head just enough to kiss Ratchet’s chest. “We’ll convince you of the others too in time.”</p>
<p>Love.</p>
<p>Well, what do you know.</p>
<p>Drift lay back down, getting comfortable along Ratchet’s side. “Is it so hard to believe that we think so highly of you?”</p>
<p>Ratchet huffed a bit. “Yeah, it is. I’m not partnership material. I know that. I’m too old and tired and cranky. You two are… You’re beautiful. Amazing. You could do better than me in a second.”</p>
<p>Rodimus laughed. He crawled up a bit until he was high enough up on the berth to kiss Ratchet’s chevron. “We survived a war, Ratch. We’ve all seen slag. Of course you’re tired and cranky. Same way that Drift is clingy and cautious, and I’m reckless and impulsive. We’re not perfect, none of us.” He paused, looking right into Ratchet’s optics, and damn if Ratchet didn’t feel he could drown in all that blue. “That doesn’t mean you’re not perfect for us.”</p>
<p>Ratchet didn’t know what to say to that. So he settled for sighing and pull both of them closer. “I’m just worried you’ll wake up one day and realize you’ve made a huge mistake.”</p>
<p>“Won’t happen.” Now it was Drift kissing his chest. “And if we do realize at some point that this isn’t right for the three of us, we’ll deal with it then. Because Roddy’s right, we’ve lived through way too much slag to not take a chance at a happy ending now. And I want mine with the two of you.”</p>
<p>“It makes it worth it,” Rodimus said quietly, “somehow. Knowing that after all of that, after all the death and the horror and the waste and all, I get to have this. To be with the two of you. It doesn’t change anything. But it makes my life worth what I got through to get here, if that makes sense.”</p>
<p>Ratchet kept quiet. But Rodimus’ words resonated. He wasn’t sure what they had yet, but maybe, for this… Maybe it had been worth it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Freespace/What really matters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t like everything changed overnight. The Lost Light was still more chaos than common sense. There was officially peace between Autobots and Decepticons, yes, but that didn’t mean things were peaceful. There were far too many grudges, opinions and ambitions floating around for that.</p><p>Sometimes, Ratchet worried they’d be back right back where they started and get thrown into another million-year-war. More often, he worried about whatever threat would be popping up next. A lot of the time, he worried about the mecha around him, and who would be the next one he couldn’t save. The next one whose loss he had to be cynical about.</p><p>And always, always, he worried about Drift and Rodimus.</p><p>At least that was easily alleviated. When his shift was over – shorter shifts these days; First Aid wasn’t coping well with anything, not yet, but he had started kicking Ratchet out of medbay, and that was a good sign – he would go back to his new habsuite, and one of his two Intendeds would be there waiting for him. Sometimes both, if their free shifts aligned. And Ratchet got to crawl into berth with them, or sit with them cuddled up against him, and share energon and stories and warmth. And in those moments, his worries faded away.</p><p>Rodimus and Drift were there. They were with him. They were safe.</p><p>“You’re always so worried,” Drift would comment, and Ratchet would sigh and let his helm rest against Drift’s.</p><p>“I’ve grown accustomed to losing friends,” he’d admit. “I’ve learned to expect that they can be here one moment and gone the next. It’ll take me a while to get back out of that mindset. I don’t know if I even can.”</p><p>And Drift would hum, and cuddle closer, and promise to never let Ratchet go. Ratchet adored him.</p><p>Rodimus was a different kind of energy. He was earnest and playful, excited and concerned. He would plant himself in Ratchet’s lap and smile, and say that even though things sucked slag and everything looked like it was going to the Pit, that he’d be damned if he let anything happen to his mecha. And Ratchet believed him, because Rodimus was just like that. He was as self-sacrificing as Optimus had been, before everything went sour, and he cared just as much, but he was stronger. Strong enough to see failings in himself and work to correct it.</p><p>Strong enough to see past Ratchet’s failings and love him anyway.</p><p>Ratchet adored him as well.</p><p>So when the universe looked bleak, and Ratchet feared for his friends and his species and the crew he served on and whatever future they had left to them, he went to his Intendeds. And he let himself be weak, and scared, and let himself seek comfort and reassurance.</p><p>The universe had a ways to go yet before everything was back on track. Ratchet wasn’t fool enough to believe there was such a thing as a happily ever after.</p><p>But these days, when he was waking up underneath both Drift and Rodimus, with one’s finials poking his helm and the other’s weight heavy on his arm and their legs all tangled up together, he could believe in a happy right now, and could see that 'right now' stretching into a future he suddenly found himself looking forward to.</p><p>And that was really all that mattered.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had different thoughts for this chapter, a happy ending of sorts. But I didn't have it in me to write a fluffy ending to this, considering the news and images and stories of the last few days. So it ended a little differently than I'd imagined, but not, I hope, in a bad way.<br/>Stay safe, and keep fighting for what's right. We will get there in the end.</p>
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